


Heaven Sent

by confetticas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Babysitting, Don't Examine This Too Closely, F/M, Fluff, Hugs, Hunters, Kid Fic, Nightmares, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:30:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confetticas/pseuds/confetticas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are eight small children in Bobby's house, and he's pretty sure that none of them were children even a day ago. Four archangels, an angel, two Winchester's and a Milligan. Bobby's going to need all the help he can get. Enter Jodie Mills, Miracle Worker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven Sent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bballgirl3022](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bballgirl3022/gifts).



Bobby is generally ridiculously good at dealing with insane situations that would send most people running for the hills, or, well, towards even more extreme avoidance tactics. This, though. This is insane even for the things he’s used to dealing with on a daily basis.  
  
His house has been overrun with small children.   
  
This would be bad enough all on its own, but no. It gets worse.   
  
The eight small children running around his house, well, on any other day, they’d be two Winchester’s, a Milligan, four archangels and an angel. Today is, unfortunately, _not_ any other day, and Bobby has no idea whatsoever as to how he’s supposed to _fix_ this and wrangle eight six-year-olds at the same time.  
  
It would help if said six-year-olds understood the concepts of _sitting still_ or _shutting up_. For even five minutes at a time, really.   
  
Roughly forty-eight hours after he wakes up to eight six-year-olds screaming at each other in his living room, Bobby reluctantly admits to himself that he’s going to need some help.  
  
There aren’t a lot of options to get said help, which is a sad fact to face, but it’s the truth.  
  
On the other hand, Bobby can think of at least one person who could probably wrangle the idjits in her sleep if she had to, and he’s even mostly certain she’ll be willing to help out without cursing him into the next decade.  
  
Jodie it is.  
  
~+~+~+~  
  
Jodie, as it turns out, is an honest to god miracle worker when it comes to de-aged hunters and angels who don’t understand the meaning of good behavior.   
  
Every single one of the idjits listens to her. She doesn’t even have to yell all that much.  
  
…also, Bobby is fairly certain the whole apocalypse mess would’ve gone much better for all involved had Jodie been allowed to grab Lucifer and Michael by their shirts and order them to hug it out.   
  
Jodie also manages to make naps happen. Bobby isn’t quite sure _how_ she does it, but he’s thoroughly impressed by it and incredibly grateful for it. Miracles. Jodie causes them. It’s a beautiful thing, the silence. “Find anything?” Jodie asks over her coffee, glancing into the living room to make sure the ‘children’ are all still asleep.  
  
Bobby shakes his head. “What’s powerful enough to not only turn four archangels into mostly powerless six-year-olds, but also drag two of them out of a supposedly impenetrable cage and bring one of them back to life?”  
  
Jodie quirks an eyebrow. “God.”  
  
“…no,” Bobby denies, eyes flitting to the doorway to the living room as if to make sure that the offhanded mention of their Father hasn’t prompted the mini-angels to wake up and start trying to bust out of the house. Bobby can just imagine mini-Michael storming up to random people on the street demanding to know if they know where his Father is. Or worse, trying to smite people when they didn’t have the answer and/or tried to find his ‘parents.’ No. Just, no.  
  
Jodie shrugs. “That’s just the first thing that came to mind. I’m sure there’s something else,” she assures him, sounding a little doubtful of this theory herself.   
  
Bobby sighs. “I hate to say this,” he begins grudgingly. “But I really don’t think the answer to this problem is in any of my books.”  
  
“Miss Jodie?” a small, timid voice asks from the doorway before Jodie can respond.  
  
Jodie turns to face the mini-archangel with a reassuring smile. “What’s wrong, Raphael?”  
  
Raphael bites his lip, looking torn, and then ducks his head. “Never mind,” he mutters, turning to head back into the living room.   
  
“Hey, buddy,” Jodie calls him back gently, crouching down to be on eye level with him. “You can talk to me, okay? What’s bugging you?”  
  
“I…” Raphael hesitates. “I had a bad dream,” he blurts quickly, like he’s terribly embarrassed to admit to it. “I…”  
  
Jodie doesn’t even pause to think about, she just scoops him up into a reassuring hug. “That, bud, is perfectly normal,” she promises. “It happens to the best of us. Even mean ‘ol Bobby has nightmares, don’t you, Bobby?”  
  
Bobby bites his tongue on the urge to point out that as it happens, Raphael tends to _give_ people nightmares, not have them himself. The kid is a kid, Bobby reminds himself, because it’s true and as best as they’ve managed to gather, the memory situation is a bit fuzzy. All eight kids seem to know who Bobby is, and Dean and Sam definitely recognize Jodie, but none of them seem to have much recollection of their adult lives. “Course I do,” he answers gruffly. “Like Jodie said, kid, everyone has nightmares.”  
  
Raphael nods, burying his face in Jodie’s shoulder. “Gabe left,” he mumbles.  
  
There’s a moment of dead silence, and for one heart stopping second, Bobby thinks that Raphael is telling them that Gabriel managed to sneak out, but then he catches sight of the golden locks belonging to a certain mini-archangel, who’s using Sam’s stomach as a pillow and Adam’s stomach as a footrest, and he understands. _Oh_.   
  
Even Bobby isn’t capable of remaining distant to Raphael’s confused, pained expression after _that_. “Kid,” he starts awkwardly, and stops, shaking his head. “Gabe’s right in there, using Sam and Adam for pillows, see? He’s not going anywhere. It was just a dream.” It feels like a lie, tastes sour on Bobby’s tongue, because it isn’t ‘just a dream’, it’s a memory, and it’s clearly a damn painful one at that. But he’s not going to tell the kid, ‘yeah, your big brother up and left you because he couldn’t handle watching your other brothers go at it. Have fun dealing with that at all of six years old.’ No.  
  
“I was _alone_ ,” Raphael protests, looking up to meet Bobby’s gaze, his eyes shining slightly with tears. “Luce was gone and Dad was gone and Gabe left, an’, an’, Michael…”  
  
Jodie rubs his back soothingly, shooting Bobby a helpless look.   
  
Bobby flounders for a second, but manages to come up with something. “But you aren’t alone now,” he tells the mini-archangel reassuringly. “You have me, and Jodie, and all seven of the idjits in the living room, too. No one is going anywhere.” Until and if it becomes possible to get them back to their original ages, but that’s beside the point.  
  
“Not leaving?” Raphael asks timidly.   
  
Bobby nods in confirmation. “Not leaving.”  
  
Raphael leans over and wraps his arms around Bobby’s neck for a split second before jumping out of Jodie’s arms and running back into the living room.   
  
“I’ll admit it,” Jodie says reluctantly, after a minute where they watch Raphael as he realizes that Lucifer has stolen his spot. Raphael shrugs and quickly worms his way in-between Michael and Lucifer, making himself comfortable and managing not to wake anyone up in the process. It only takes a second before all three of them are cuddled up, sharing blankets and pillows and a little tangled together. “I’m going to be a little sad when we manage to reverse this.”  
  
Bobby quickly glances over his living room, every available surface covered in blankets and stuffed animals and pillows, and feels an affectionate smile creep over his face. “I can’t disagree with you there.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My title is a terrible notfunny joke, I know, but I couldn't help myself. :P


End file.
